


Blood Son

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7513550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dynamic Duo investigate a drug shipment, but the aftermath may shake the Bat-family apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Son

Blood Son

 

“How the HELL did this happen?”

“There were…unexpected complications.  There was no time to adjust to the new circumstances.”

“And you just let him take the fall for you?”

“It wasn’t like that.  He did his part, while I did mine.  What did you want me to do?”

“Don’t give me that.  You know EXACTLY what you should have done!”

“I do, and if I had done it, neither of us would be here now.”

“I suppose you feel justified in that fact, do you?  You know the hell you’re putting him through.  That wasn’t a question, you KNOW the hell he’s in right now.”

“I do.”

“So, what now?

“We wait.  The computer is analyzing the toxin now to see if there is an antidote, but it will probably wear off before the computer is done.”

“THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!  He could also be dead before the computer’s done.”

“I know.  You honestly think I haven’t thought of that?”

“We need to be doing more, damn it!”

“You already did the most important thing, you got the bastard before he could release the rest of the toxin.”

“Some consolation that is.  How are we going to explain it to him?  ‘Sorry you had the worst time of your life, but we got him.’”

“Yes, I think he would appreciate that fact.  Remember how Jason reacted when he found out that the Joker was still on the loose?  I don’t want the same reaction from him.”

“For your sake, I hope he doesn’t have the same reaction.  Because if he does, he will have a lot of support in this cave.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

“Damn it.  Damn this whole situation, and while I’m at it, damn you, too.”

“Watch your mouth, boy.  You think this isn’t hard for me, too?  You think it isn’t hard standing here, watching, knowing there is nothing I can do to make this better?”

“I’m sorry.  It’s just…seeing him there…like that.  I feel so…helpless.  We started this so that things like…that…don’t happen to people anymore.  Why can’t we stop it from happening?”

“I have been asking myself that for years.”

“Seriously, what happened last night Bruce?”

“I’ll tell you Dick, but it won’t make it any easier…”

Batman and Robin were following a lead about a major narcotics shipment that was due in Gotham tonight.  The players were unknown, but taking down this shipment should keep the drug trade in Gotham subdued for months.  So, under-informed and running out of time, they went in anyway.

“This is it, warehouse 13 North West.  The shipment should be arriving any time now.”  Batman said.

“Tt. Why here?  The major players in the drug trade usually specialize in sea routes to transport their drugs.  Why a change to an overland route?”

Bruce rolled his eyes under his cowl.  Damian had a point, though.  Shipping by truck opened up the cargo to inspection at any number of truck stops and weigh stations along the highways.  “I don’t know, Robin, but the intel is solid.  The truck will be here…ah, there it is.”

A semi-truck pulled into the warehouse lot and backed into an offloading bay.  Batman took notice that it was a refrigerated truck, and the warehouse was a large, cold storage unit.  Batman and Robin stole quietly across the building’s roof and entered through what Damian had begun calling ‘Hero Access Portals’-aka, skylights.  Damian pulled open the cover and searched the frame, whispering to Batman, “Why don’t these idiots ever think of alarming the skylights?  It’s shoddy villainy, if you ask me.”

Batman smirked under his cowl.  “I’ll be sure to mention your feelings on the subject the next time we interrogate a criminal.”

The dynamic duo perched on a steel support beam over the open area, careful not to cast shadows.  As they looked through their binoculars, each one started to gather information about the situation below.  Robin, keeping to his part of the plan, was doing a head count and identifying guards.  It was simple work, counting goons, so Robin began to categorize them by apparent job role and perceived threat level. 

Batman observed the unloading of the truck, and began to feel unnerved.  A single man was unloading the truck, which told Batman that the job had to be done carefully.  That could mean that the cargo was worth a lot and the owners didn’t want it damaged in transit.  The truck was full of a single layer of 55-gallon drums, which told Batman that the cargo was somewhat fragile.  A truck that sized could have held twice as much cargo if it was double stacked in the trailer.  It would be slow going, unloading one barrel at a time.  The truck was packed with barrels standing four-wide, and at least twenty five rows deep.  Whatever it was, there was a lot of it.

Batman focused on one of the drums to make out the labeling. There was only one drum with lettering facing his direction.  _Damian will never let me hear the end of it if we have to change position just because I can’t see what it says on the barrel_.  What he could make out on the barrel was: ‘F.T. Mk VII.  Handle With Care.  This Side Up.  Store at or Below 60 F.’ Batman searched his mind for any drug with the initials F.T., but was coming up with nothing.  Robin then nudged him to get his attention.

“Batman, coming out of the office.  I think we just found our player.”

Batman adjusted his gaze to focus on the man exiting the office with what appeared to be the truck driver.  Tall, skinny, wearing a suit at least one size too big for his spindly body.  There was also a burlap sack sticking out of his pocket.  “Jonathon Crane.  I see our Scarecrow has been busy since leaving Arkham.”

It then dawned on Batman, “F.T.  Robin, those barrels are full of Fear Toxin.  That much could infect the entire city.  Mk VII.  Mark seven?  I was only aware of five versions of Fear Toxin.”

Robin turned to look at the taller man.  “How many do we have antidotes for?”

“Two.”

“You’re right, he has been busy.  How do you want to play this?”

“Stick to the plan, Robin, with one slight adjustment.  How many guards have you been able to make out?”

“There are eight men in the warehouse that I have seen, including the driver, the guy unloading the truck, and Scarecrow.  That leaves five actual guards, I can take them easily.”

Bruce warned, “Just because one guy drove the truck and one is unloading, don’t assume they are not capable of being threats as well.”

Damian huffed, “Tt.  I already thought of that.  When we jump in, Scarecrow will run, you can take out the driver and loader, while I handle the guards.  That should leave you with enough time to get samples of the Toxin and to plant the charges on the cargo.”

Batman smiled.  It was a good enough plan to run with for now.  Besides, they’re Batman and Robin, they can adjust on the fly if they have to.

Batman nodded, “Get in position, we go on my count.”

Robin nodded back and moved off to get in a better position to ambush the guards, three of whom were gathered around a coffee maker, making themselves an easy target.  Batman waited for the signal that Robin was ready, then gave the go sign.  The Dark Knight and the Boy Wonder silently jumped into action.

Batman landed silently behind the loader and incapacitated him with a nerve strike.  He then made his way quickly towards the driver as Robin landed on one guard’s shoulders, sending him crashing through the coffee maker, and the table it was sitting on, effectively taking him out of the fight.  Batman cringed internally, hoping Robin hadn’t broken the man’s neck with that impact.  Robin was effectively slicing through the remaining guards as Batman knocked out the driver easily. Robin’s initial assessment had been correct, Scarecrow had run off towards the office, and the driver had just been a driver.  Batman turned to the barrels and put on a mask to protect himself from fumes before opening the first barrel.  He took a syringe from his utility belt and withdrew a sample from the drum.  The liquid came up a sickly yellow-orange.  Batman drew three samples from this container, then three more from another container for comparison.  He then placed all six vials of toxin into a padded compartment in the utility belt for safe keeping and turned to see if Robin needed any help.

The sight upon turning caused Batman to stop all movement, and his blood ran cold.

Scarecrow hadn’t run into the office to escape, he ran to summon more guards.  The five original guards were laid out across the warehouse.  Robin had done as he said and handled them.  The five guards had been replaced by twenty heavily armed and body-armored mercenaries.  Crane had hired a paramilitary force to handle his security; the other guards were just window-dressing.  Fifteen of the mercs were arranged in a firing line, their assault rifles pointed at Batman’s chest.  Behind them, three more mercs were pointing their rifles at Robin, who was unconscious and being held up by his arms by the remaining two mercenaries.  There was a large, rifle-butt shaped bruise blossoming on the side of Robin’s head, and a cut to his temple was allowing blood to make a slow trickle down the side of his face, towards his collar.  Scarecrow stood, mask on now, in between the firing line and the group around Robin.

“Well, Batman, this is quite a predicament you have found yourself in, isn’t it?”  Scarecrow smiled at the vigilante, but it couldn’t be seen from under his mask.  “Say hello to my new friends.  Quite impressive, right?  They’re Eastern European, from one of those Stan countries, I think.  It doesn’t matter which one, really, because they are here, at great expense, I might add, to provide security for this shipment.  Oh, but where are my manners?  You haven’t been introduced to my latest creation: Fear Toxin, version seven.”  Scarecrow held out his arms to encompass the mass of fear-inducing chemicals in barrels behind Batman.  “I know what you are thinking, Caped Crusader, and you’re wrong.  You see, that sign on the drums, ‘Store at or Below 60 degrees’?  It’s not what you think.  Below sixty degrees, the toxin is stable, but above sixty degrees, it concentrates, making itself four times more potent than any Fear Toxin I have invented before.  At least, that is what it’s _supposed_ to do.  I haven’t actually tested it yet, but don’t worry, you have given me the perfect test subject.”

Batman took a step forward, then stopped as all fifteen rifles trained on him followed his every move.  Batman looked down to notice fifteen laser sight dots all clustered on the Bat insignia on his chest.  His uniform was Kevlar, with extra bulletproof padding over sensitive organs.  He wrapped his cape around himself as he surreptitiously pressed a button on his utility belt.  The cape was made of a carbon-titanium composite; lightweight, flexible, bullet resistant.  All of his padding and protection would be appropriate against small arms, knives, bats, and other common thug weapons.  Against high-powered assault rifles, it offered about as much protection as the burlap sack that covered Scarecrow’s head.

Scarecrow noticed the movement and gave another unseen smile.  “No objections?  Okay, then let’s see how your little bird handles real fear.  Bring the smelling salts!  I want him awake for this.”

One of the mercenaries handed Scarecrow a packet, which he broke under the boy’s nose.  Thirty seconds of waving the chemical around got the desired effect.  Robin inhaled deeply and pushed himself back from the smell.  Still dizzy, dazed, and with a pounding headache, Robin looked around to see the situation was much different from the last one he remembered.  Where had all these armed people come from?  Then he caught sight of Scarecrow, but was held too securely to move, impossible to fight, impossible to flee.  Batman stared into his eyes, and Robin could imagine that they could see each other’s eyes, not just lenses.  Did he look pained?  What was going on?

“Oh, good, he’s awake!  Now we can get on with this.  Guards, masks, now!”  The mercenaries all put on gas masks to protect themselves.  Robin, still dazed from the blow to the head, couldn’t react until it was too late.  Scarecrow shoved his wrist right under Robin’s nose and sprayed the toxin straight up it.  The toxin instantly absorbed through the mucus membranes.  Robin couldn’t exhale any of it back out, because there was nothing left to blow out.  “How about that, Batman.  Think it took?  No?  Well, we can always try for more!”  Scarecrow sprayed twice more into Robin’s nose, again the toxin instantly absorbed and could not be expelled.  Scarecrow placed his mask within an inch of Robin’s face and whispered, “Boo.”

“Tt.  Bastard.”

Scarecrow laughed and walked towards the office.  “Remember what I said about the compounding effect at temperature, Batman.  Tell me, can you possibly think of anything _else_ that maintains a constant temperature above sixty degrees?”

Lights shone through the windows and a voice over a loudspeaker blared from outside the warehouse, “This is the Gotham PD SWAT team.  Surrender now, you’re surrounded.”

Batman keyed his communicator to the SWAT team’s tactical frequency as the mercenaries turned towards the doors and yelled into the microphone, “BREACH, NOW!”

The roll-up door exploded away from the wall with a shower of debris reaching every corner of the warehouse.  The mercs opened fire at the new opening, and were met with heavy return fire.  Batman thought he should talk to Commissioner Gordon about the response time of his SWAT team as he ran for Robin.  The boy was still dazed from his injuries, and now from the unexpected explosion.  Batman scooped up the boy and ran to the Batmobile.  He had to get Robin home before the toxin took full effect.

As they tore off in the direction of the Bat-Cave, Robin turned to Batman.  “Father, I don’t think the toxin works.  I’m not hallucinating, and I don’t feel scared.  I’m just cold, really cold.”

Batman was worried, “You were unconscious when Crane explained it.  The toxin takes some time to warm up once in the blood stream, but once it does, it’s more potent than any Fear Toxin he has ever used.  I need to get you home, now.”  Batman keyed the in-car communicator, “Bat to Cave, come in.  We have an emergency.”

“Alfred here, sir.  What can I…”

“No time, Alfred.  Get the medical bay ready, we’re coming in hot.  ETA 30 minutes.  It’s Robin, the ‘drug’ was actually a new Fear Toxin from the Scarecrow.  Robin got a triple dose.”

“Oh, no sir.  Is he showing signs yet?”

“Not yet, but it’s coming.  Call Tim, call Barbara.  I have samples of the toxin, I need them analyzed as soon as we arrive.  This is all hands on deck.  Have Barbara call in the Birds to work with Dick, Crane is still out there.”

“At once, sir.”

“Batman, out.”

They sat in silence for about ten minutes before Robin spoke up again, “I don’t feel cold anymore, father.”

Batman thought his stomach couldn’t sink any lower, until he heard his boy utter those words.  That meant the toxin had reached its full potency in his blood stream, and the effects would start soon.  “Stay with me, Robin.  Just remember, whatever you see, it’s not real, it’s not happening, it can’t hurt you.”

“Yes, father.”  Damian looked away from Batman and to his hands, folded in his lap.  He had heard the horror stories about Batman’s, and the other Robin’s, exposure to Fear Toxin.  He never let on, but deep down, the stories had terrified him.  Now he was going to experience it first hand, and the thought was not comforting.  Nothing had happened so far, maybe his first thought was right, and the toxin didn’t work.  He just had to keep telling himself that until…

Until Robin looked up and saw flying daggers and swords coming at the Batmobile, ready to crash through the windscreen and cut him to bits.  Robin tensed and pushed back in his seat, looking at Batman, who didn’t seem to see the flying cutlery.  Then he remembered, and thought to himself _it’s not real, it’s not happening._   Robin began to breathe easier as the hallucination faded.  They drove on for a couple more minutes when Robin felt something squirming on his face.  He reached up, sure to find a snake there, and pulled off his mask.  He stared at it in his hands curiously, breathing heavily.

Batman looked at his son out of the corner of his eye as the boy removed his mask and stared at it, as if he had never seen it before.  Batman knew the hallucinations were starting, and he pressed the accelerator further into the floorboard.  Then, he remembered one of his previous experiences with Fear Toxin, and slowed down.  He didn’t want to give Damian anything else that could possibly frighten him.

Robin glanced at his father, wondering what the man must be thinking.  He opened his mouth to ask, but stopped when something in his hand began to move.  He looked back down, and a green snake coiled around his hands rearing to strike with long, venomous fangs.  Damian dropped the snake to the floorboard and began to stomp on it, trying to flatten the head that had tried to poison him.  He looked away to ask his father to hurry up and heard a shattering sound.  Looking down again, Damian saw he was repeatedly stomping on his mask, the lenses shattering and the miniature electronics hopelessly crushed.  _It’s not real, It’s not happening, It’s not real, It’s not happening._

Batman felt increasingly helpless and floored the accelerator, needing to get to the cave now.  Damian had started mumbling to himself, and Batman could just barely make out, ‘It’s not real, It’s not happening.”  _Good Damian, fight it.  I’ll get you home soon, son._

Damian’s mumble turned into a whisper as he looked out the window and saw the alleyway collapsing around them, ready to crush the Batmobile with them inside.  The whisper turned into a normal speaking volume as the flash on the red light camera that took the Batmobile’s picture when Batman ran yet another red light to get his son home turned into the flash of a sniper’s rifle, the bullet ready to pierce his heart.  The normal speaking voice turned into a shout as the trees lining the lane approaching the cave all held members of the League of Assassins ready to decapitate both of the Batmobile’s passengers.  “It’s not real, It’s not happening, It’s not real, It’s not happening, It’s not real, It’s not happening!”

Batman wanted to cry for the anguish in his son’s voice as the hallucinations took over.  He turned to his son and said, “It’ll be okay now, son, we’re home.”

Damian looked up at his father, but instead of seeing Batman, Damian saw a demon.  The eye’s flashed green, horns grew where the points usually were on the cowl, and a snake wound its way out of the mouth, saying, “You’re mine now, I have you.”

Damian screamed, staring wide eyed at Batman.  Bruce, misunderstanding and trying to help, took off the cowl.  He hoped seeing his face would help calm the boy.

He was wrong.

As Bruce took off the cowl, Damian saw the demon tearing the skin off of its face, leaving a skull.  The eyes still blazed green, and an aura of flame erupted from the back and sides of the skull.  The snake was replaced by a forked tongue, and Bruce’s whispered words, meant to comfort the boy, were perceived as a low, bone-chilling laugh.

Damian screamed again, and began yelling at the top of his lungs, “IT’S NOT REAL!  IT’S NOT HAPPENING!  IT’S NOT REAL!  IT’S NOT HAPPENING! IT’S NOT REAL! IT’S NOT HAPPENING!”

Bruce opened the canopy of the Batmobile and grabbed his son, sending him into another wave of hallucinations.  He ran past Alfred, who had been approaching from the medical bay, yelling out, “Get a sedative!  We need to sedate him before he starts to hurt himself!”

Bruce held the boy tightly, trying to strap him down to the bed for his own safety, as Alfred brought a needle and a vial.  Drawing up a dose, Alfred said, “Hold out his arm.  This is the strongest thing we have, it will knock him out for sure.”  Alfred injected the serum into the boy’s arm as quickly as possible, and within a minute, Damian began to relax.  He didn’t knock out, though.  The adrenaline coursing through his small body kept him wired even with enough sedatives coursing through his veins to incapacitate Bane.  He still slurred out his mantra and occasionally flinched and tried to escape the visions.  Bruce and Alfred changed the boy out of his uniform and into clean pajamas, then Bruce strapped him tightly to the hospital bed as Alfred treated his head wound.

Bruce quickly related what had happened to the aged butler, then looked around, his anger growing.  “Did you call them?  Where is everyone!  You told them it was an emergency, right?”

Alfred didn’t get a chance to answer that yes, of course he had called, because Tim came running into the medical bay, dressed in full Red Robin uniform.  “Sorry, Bruce.  I was across town, got here as fast as I could.”

Bruce took off his utility belt and threw it at Tim, not looking at his third son.  “Refrigerated pouch, six vials of a new Fear Toxin.  Get to the computer and get it analyzed, we need an antidote now!”

Tim looked at the boy strapped to the bed with sympathy.  He remembered his run-in with the Scarecrow’s handiwork.  Damian was already starting to fight past the sedative and started his chant again, getting louder every few minutes.

Tim ran to the computer as Barbara entered the cave.  She went to talk to Bruce, but Tim intercepted her and told her everything she needed to know.  She followed him to the computer.

The Birds of Prey entered the cave a minute ahead of Dick, dressed in full Nightwing uniform.  Bruce came out of the medical bay when he saw them and began shouting, “What are you three doing here?  Alfred gave you your orders, you don’t need to be here for confirmation.  Scarecrow is out there right now.  You hear what is going on in there?” Bruce pointed to the medical bay, where Damian’s screams of fear could be plainly heard, and were getting louder.  “Scarecrow did that, and he‘s planning on doing it to the rest of Gotham.  You three get out there and find him.  I want Jonathon Crane either in Arkham, or the ground, TONIGHT!”

All three backed up a step.  None of them had ever seen Bruce this worked up.  Dick took a step forward to offer some comfort to Bruce.  Bruce took a step forward himself, his mouth less than an inch from Dick’s forehead, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “NOW!”  The three vigilantes took off running, and were out of the cave and on the hunt in less than a minute.

Bruce walked over to the computer to check on the progress of his smarter children and associates.  The computer had analyzed all six samples and confirmed that they were all the same compound and of the same strength.  It was now doing a molecular breakdown to isolate ingredients in the hopes of creating an antidote.  There was really nothing else they could do until results came back, so Bruce had Tim research the warehouse location to help find where Scarecrow was possibly going to use his toxin.  He then instructed Barbara to contact the Commissioner and find out why it had taken the SWAT team so long to answer his distress call.  She was about to pick up the Bat-phone when it began ringing on its own.

Batman ripped the receiver from the hook and yelled into the mouthpiece, “What the hell, Jim.  I gave you plenty of warning that the warehouse was the target.  I laid everything out for you.  The only thing you had to do was have the SWAT team IN POSITION and ready to breach on my signal.  It took almost five minutes for them to assemble, and then I had to ORDER them to breach.  They should have been following the truck.  They should have been assembled as soon as Robin and I went in.  They should have breached, on their own, less than a minute after receiving my signal.  But they didn’t!  And now, Scarecrow got to test his new toxin.  If Robin dies, Jim, mark my words: the police commission won’t be able to go for your badge, because I will have your HEAD!”  Batman slammed the receiver back down on the hook, Commissioner Gordon having never got a word in.

Barbara watched, appalled and shocked at what she had just seen and heard, “Bruce, you are going too far.  You had no right to talk to my father, YOUR FRIEND, that way!”  Bruce stalked away, not bothering to reply.

Bruce re-entered the medical bay to find that Damian appeared to be unconscious again.  He held his son’s hand and watched his son’s face.  The boy appeared to be in a deep sleep, twitching as if having a horrible nightmare, which Bruce suspected he was having.  Alfred joined him at the bedside, “It’s not an easy thing to watch, seeing one you care about so deeply be in so much pain.”

“No, Alfred, it’s not.”

The butler placed a hand on Bruce’s arm, “I wasn’t talking only about Master Damian.”  The man Bruce regarded as a grandfather squeezed his arm before walking out of the medical bay to leave the two alone.

Tim approached the old man outside of the medical bay, “Tell me, Alfred.  Was he like this when the rest of us got gassed as Robin?”

“Every time, Master Tim, every time.”

Damian awoke the next morning.  At least, he assumed it was the next morning.  It was so hard to tell night and day when he was in the cave.  He had a massive headache, and he was exhausted from a night of the worst nightmares of his life, but overall, he didn’t feel too bad.  He looked around and was surprised that no one was there.  He was still strapped to the bed, and couldn’t move due to the tight straps.  _Was I that bad that they had to tie me down?_   After a couple minutes, Alfred walked into the medical bay and was startled to find the boy looking back at him, smiling at the old man.

“Oh, you’re awake.”  Alfred said with a frown and let out a huff before going about his business, not bothering to untie the boy.

_Did I do something wrong?  Why does he seem mad at me?  I must have said something pretty horrible under the Fear Toxin for this reaction._   Damian decided to wait for Alfred to come over and let him loose before saying anything.  That was a mistake, because as soon as Alfred checked a monitor, he walked out of the medical bay.

_Did Drake or Grayson put him up to this?  This is really not a nice trick, especially when I’m not fully recovered yet._

Tim entered the medical bay, closely followed by Barbara.  Damian smiled at them, then faltered as they both stopped by the door, not daring to approach any closer.  Tim turned to Barbara and said, “Damn, Alfred wasn’t kidding, he is awake.  Well, I guess we better take him up to see Bruce.”

“I guess so, Tim.  You untie him, I’m just as close as I want to be right here.”

Tim smiled, “I don’t blame you, but we won’t have to put up with it very much longer now.”

Tim untied Damian and pointed to the stairs.  “Upstairs, you.  He’s in the study.  He’ll be the one to deal with you.”

“Oh...Okay,” Damian meekly said as he got off the bed unsteadily and made for the stairs.

As he was walking away, he overheard Tim and Barbara talking again.  “So Bruce really offered to take you back as Robin?”

“Yep, just as soon as he gets rid of the little imposter, I’m back to my old job.  I can’t wait.  It’s been too long since things were how they are supposed to be.”

Damian stopped on the stairs as he heard the exchange.  His lip started to tremble.  _Father is getting rid of me?  Did I really do something that bad?  This can’t be real_.

He met Jason coming down the stairs as he was going up.  “So it is true, you’re actually fine.”

Damian sighed, “Yeah.  I didn’t think you would be the one person who cared.”

“Me?  No, we were taking bets on it.  I had twenty bucks on ‘permanent debilitating psychosis.’”

Damian carefully asked, “Who had money on ‘no permanent injury’?”

“Come to think of it, no one.  Guess no one was counting too much on you.  Bye, faker.”  Jason walked off to join Tim and Barbara, and Damian could hear their laughter follow him up the stairs.

_What is going on here?  This can’t be happening._

Damian approached the study door, only to have Dick rush past him into the study, shoving him roughly out of the way.  “Bruce, you were right.  We just got the test back and it’s confirmed.”

Bruce looked up, a little hopeful.  “Well, what does it say?”

“Let me see if I can channel Maury Povich for this: Bruce, when it comes to 10 year old Damian, you are NOT the father!”

Bruce broke into a huge smile as Damian, watching from the doorway, collapsed against the door frame.  Bruce noticed Damian standing there for the first time as he took the paper report from Dick and read it over, joy written across his face.

Damian walked slowly into the office, tears in his eyes, “But, I’m your son.  We had it tested before and it showed I am your son!”

“Guess not, boy.  I thought this might be the case.  I already called Talia.  Now we can get this cleared up.”

“But, I’m your son.  I’m your son.”  Damian was speaking more to himself than anyone else in the room.  The other two men had stopped listening to him anyway.  _This can’t be happening!_

Talia walked into the room.  Apparently she had been in Gotham on business and came as soon as Bruce had called.  “Mother!”

“Don’t call me that, you!  I told you before, I am no longer your mother.  Why have you summoned me, beloved?”

Bruce held up the paper, “Did you think I wouldn’t find out, Talia?  You can take that _thing_ with you.  We know the truth now; he is no relation of mine.  What was your plan?  Use him to extort money?”

“Damn, the implanted genetic markers were not supposed to wear off this soon.  Yes, beloved, he was a plant, a ploy to take over the Wayne Empire.  If I couldn’t have you willingly, I would have your Empire.”

_What is going on here?_   “Mother, what are you saying?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Who is he, Talia?”  Bruce asked.

Talia sighed, “He is the bastard son of my former handmaiden.  She was only slightly useful, but when the child resembled you, I hatched a plan.  It almost worked, too.”

Bruce drew himself up to his full height and glared down at Talia, “Leave my home, and take the bastard with you.  Both of you, never set foot in my home again.”

“Father, please, tell me what’s going on!  I don’t understand!”

“I don’t care.  You’re not my problem anymore.  She can tell you, or not.  It doesn’t matter to me.  But you both need to leave now, before I really get angry.”

Talia swept out of the room, Damian following in her wake, unsure of what else he should do.  He barely made it on to the helicopter before Talia slammed the door and instructed the pilot to take off.

“What will happen to me now?” Damian asked his…mother?

She didn’t look at him as she said, “The League gave you enough training to be able to answer that question on your own.  The League of Assassins does not tolerate failure, and that is just what you have done: failed.  You, more than anyone, should know what comes next.  You will be taken before my father and executed.  Failure is not an option, and mercy is not to be given.”

Damian’s jaw dropped as he heard his sentence pronounced.  Tears sprang from his eyes as he lowered his head to his hands.  Shaking his head, he mumbled to himself, “This isn’t real, this isn’t happening.  It’s isn’t real, it isn’t happening…

“…it isn’t real, it isn’t happening, it isn’t real, it isn’t happening…”

The repeated mumbling woke Dick as he slept in the chair next to Damian’s bed.  Unsure of what he was hearing, he leaned forward and heard the boy’s repeated mantra, gaining strength as the boy grew closer to consciousness.  His arms strained at the restraints.  Dick grabbed his Little D’s hand, and the contact shook the boy out of his dream state.  Damian opened his eyes and focused on Dick as tears rolled down the cheeks of the older man. 

Still confused, Damian eyed the older man warily.  It felt like only a few minutes ago that the man was rejoicing at Damian’s ouster from the family, now he was crying over his bed.  Damian opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out.

No words came out of Damian’s mouth, but Dick opened his and yelled as loud as he could, “Everyone, come quick!  He’s awake!  He’s finally awake!”

Damian still couldn’t say anything, but soon heard three sets of feet thundering down the stairs and into the medical bay.  He saw Alfred and Tim stop at the door, both shocked to see the boy awake.  Bruce, however, didn’t stop at the door.  Bruce ran into the room, stopped at the bed, unlatched the restraints and scooped his son up into a crushing hug.  Still disoriented, Damian couldn’t sort out his feelings.  Confused beyond the point of help, he burst into tears and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck.

Bruce whispered into his son’s ear, “I have you back, my boy.  I finally have you back.  Everything will be okay now.  I’ll make it all okay.  I love you, my boy.  I love you, son.”

Damian’s head began to clear, and the only thing that mattered right now was that his father was holding him and saying he loved him.  Damian settled into that, wrapping his legs around his father’s waist and allowing himself to be cuddled.

Bruce sat down on the bed, arranging Damian into a comfortable position on his lap.  Damian looked at the four men around him, who were alternately crying or smiling, and asked his father in the only voice he could manage, which was barely above a whisper, “Is this real, father?  Am I really here, now?”

Alfred poured the boy a cup of water from the pitcher beside the bed, which Damian gratefully took to soothe his raw throat.  Damian had been yelling for days, sometimes incoherently, sometimes repeating his mantra.

Bruce looked a little confused, but smiled at his youngest and said, “Yes, my boy.  You’re finally back with us.  This is real.  We are here.  We are not going away.”

“What happened?  How long have I been out?”

Dick answered from next to the bed as Alfred and Tim pulled up their own chairs, “You have been out for almost two weeks.  Scarecrow’s Fear Toxin really did a number on you.  You had us scared, little one, you know that?”

Damian looked down, “Fear Toxin.  It was all a...a hallucination?”  The boy looked back up at his father with guarded hope.

“Whatever you saw, it must have been a hallucination.  We’re here, we’re real.  Trust me, Damian, It’s all going to be okay now.”

Damian started crying again, “It’s over.  I’m still here.  I’m still your son.”

What was he talking about?  “Of course you’re still my son.  Who said you weren’t?”

Damian didn’t respond, but buried his face in Bruce’s chest and wept.  Bruce carried the boy up to his room, the family trailing close behind.  Once Bruce and Damian were in the boy’s bed, Damian would not let go of Bruce, his father asked, “What did you see, son.  What was the effect of the toxin?”

Damian just shook his head and whispered, “Not yet, too soon.”

Father and son sat for another hour.  Then Damian asked, “What happened to Scarecrow?”

Tim answered this time, “Jason got him.  The warehouse was close to his territory and Jason spotted him running from the area.  Dick and Jason really did a number on him, too.  I hope you’re happy to hear that he is still in the hospital wing of Arkham, and probably won’t be out of there for a while.”

Dick piped in, “It’s going to take a while for all his new broken bones to set.  I wanted to break a few more, but Jason pulled me off of him.  I wanted him dead, and was pretty sure I had a green light, but Jason saved us both.”

Damian looked up, “Father?”

“Well, I may have said something I shouldn’t have that night, and Dick took me at my word.  It’s a good thing this family has guardian angels watching over us.”

“I want to see him, Father.”

Bruce started, “What?  No Damian, not a chance.”

Damian frowned, “Not Scarecrow, _Todd_.”

Bruce relaxed and nodded to Tim, who got up and said he would make the call.  Dick came over and gave Damian a big hug, then followed Tim out of the room.  Alfred got up and stated he would make something to eat, whatever Damian wanted.  Damian opted for pasta, figuring it would be soft enough for his raw throat.

When they were alone, Bruce softly asked again, “What did you see, son?  What do you remember?  Do you remember getting back to the cave?”

“No, Father.  I remember getting into the Batmobile, and you calling the cave to prepare for our arrival.  Then, it gets a bit fuzzy.  I remember seeing you driving, then nothing, then more driving, then nothing.  Finally, I thought I was waking up, but everyone was mad at me or something.  I didn’t know what I did wrong.  People were taking bets on how injured I was going to be, everyone was hoping I would just die.”  Damian trailed off, he didn’t want to tell his father the next part.

“Son, that’s terrible.  Did anything else happen?”  Bruce held his son just a bit tighter, Damian appreciated it.

It came out no louder than a whisper, “I went to see you in the study.  Grayson said he had proof that I wasn’t your son.  You looked so happy to be rid of me.  You called mother to have her take me away, and she revealed that I wasn’t her son either.  I didn’t belong to anyone.  I was just a failure and no one wanted me.  She said I was only placed here as a way to get someone close to you so she could take over the Wayne Empire.  You made her take me with her.  Then she told me…She told me that I was a failure and the League doesn’t tolerate failures, and when we returned to the League, I was to be put to death.”  Tears were streaking the boy’s face and his eyes were as big as they could get.  “I just kept repeating to myself, ‘it isn’t real, it isn’t happening.’  I don’t know why that kept coming to mind.”

Bruce tried to smile at his son, but the story was just too horrifying.  “Damian, I told you that in the Batmobile.  I told you to remember that no matter how bad the hallucinations got, they weren’t real and they weren’t happening.  You must have latched on to that as a touchstone to keep your sanity.  The hallucinations must have been really bad.  By the time we got home, you were pressing yourself as far away from me as you could and yelling it at the top of your lungs.  Every so often during the weeks, you would yell it out, but until today, you hadn’t spoken for days.  You scared me.  I thought I wouldn’t get you back.”

Damian mumbled, more to himself than his father, “I’m here.  I’m your son.  I’m not going anywhere.”

**A/N:  Okay, this one may have been a bit confusing, so let me offer a bit of explanation.  Yes, that was DICK yelling at BRUCE in the beginning.  I left out names until the end of the conversation purposely in order for it to be a bit vague on who was yelling at whom.  Let the readers make their own assumptions about what is going on until it is revealed.  That conversation occurs sometime during the week that Damian is hallucinating, but after they recapture Scarecrow.  Damian ‘wakes up’ to the _hallucination_ of everyone being mad at him.  The real effect of this version of the Fear Toxin is for the person to live out their worst, most deep-seated fears.  That’s right, not to just be scared but to experience their biggest fear, the fear that most people don’t even know they are afraid of.**

**This was truly a wake up in the middle of the night, write it down before it vanishes idea of a story.  In fact, by the time this is posted, it will have gone from a figment of my imagination, to a fully realized story of almost 7000 words, in less than 12 hours.  I did consider separating this into three chapters, but I was going to write the whole thing in one sitting, so I decided to just let it run and see where it went.**

**And don’t worry, in my mind, the ending was actually that, an ending.  Damian is not hallucinating that his father loves him.**

**Standard disclaimer: As always, I don’t own anything.  If I did, I would not be living in this apartment.**


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